


love at first squat

by orphan_account



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bad Smut, M/M, Profanity, ass worship, bitter tone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7286917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel never thought he'd get here. He has a boyfriend, and a job, and on his way to getting a fucking degree. Though he is still in the closet, he's made himself a comfortable home in there, free of the cold and smell of despair it had in the past. Now he has Mickey, and Mickey has him.</p><p>Too bad Ian Gallagher happens to work at the same gym, and happens to love the same man.</p><p>***<br/>this is literal trash you guys, just please forgive me, i know, i am trying to write twilight with the bitter ashes of my broken heart ;( also i am slightly drunk so</p>
            </blockquote>





	love at first squat

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't tht good, i was just a little drunk and a little heart broken after seeing some gifs of my boys. pls forgive me

“Come the fuck on, Carol. You wanna be in this fucking class forever?? Keep on pushing, come the fuck on, keep the fuck with it!”

“I’m can’t, it’s just too-”

“Don’t come with that, Carol. Carol, look at me. Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me, Carol, look me in the fucking eye.”

Mickey held the handle of her indoor bicycle, glaring right into her eyes, sweat and tears running down her face. 

“What the fuck did you say to me when you first came in here.”

Carol glared right back, holding her head a little higher. 

“That I wanted to change.”

“That’s fucking right, Carol. You wanted to change. Remember why?”

Carol wiped her forehead, her peddling quickening with renewed vigor. 

“Because I had enough of that fucking bastard.”

Mickey grinned slightly, but didn’t let up of the handle bar.

“Come on, Carol. That’s not the full story. Why the fuck are you here?”

“Because I want to reach that fucking mountain!”

“That’s right! That’s fucking right, Carol! You heard that Karen? Reach that fucking mountain. Come on ladies, pedal harder! You’re almost there.”

Mickey circulated the class, stopping by certain bikers when he saw they were lagging, or began to get that dead look in their eyes. All you could hear, other than the generic pop blasting through the speakers, were Mickey’s swear-sprinkled motivational insults and the desperate peddling of twenty exhausted students. 

“Why the fuck would you take me here? Carol, I need some peaceful exercise! Maybe even some yoga, not some pride bursting tattoo-covered thug!”

“Sherryl, this is the best fitness instructor in the whole city. He changed my life!”

When the music transitioned to a song too insufferable, Mickey trudged to the speaker in front of the class to change it. As he bent down, the fabric of his shorts stretched nicely over his ass, plump cheeks nicely highlighted by the glaring lights of the studio. 

“And he’s got the nicest ass I’ve ever seen. Don’t tell me you don’t miss your days life-guarding in Miami, Sheryl. That ass is something we all need in our lives, and this class is as close as we’re ever going to get.”

Sheryl nodded slowly, eyes wide, now understanding the full value of the class. 

*

Gabe never considered himself a lucky man. 

He only got into university by the skin on his back on a football scholarship, and had worked hard to get there. Nothing came easy. There were no freebies here for a child of immigrants whose skin wasn’t as white as Uncle Sam’s teeth. No freebies when he could still hear those taunts of going back to a country he never really knew, when he could still feel the glares on his back when he spoke to his mother in their native tongue. 

So when he held an ass as beautiful as the one in front of him, round and plump and pale as moon-light, blue bruises and hickeys dotting hips, he thought he was in a dream. Because nothing had come this easy before, and there was no way that he, Gabriel Morelia, could be so lucky.

“You gonna just stare at it all day, man?”

Gabe groaned and dropped his head in between Mickey’s shoulders, hands softly tracing the curve of his ass.

“Shut the fuck up,” he breathed, too overwhelmed to think of a more witty response. 

“What d’you just say? You just tell me to shut-up?” Gabe could hear the smile in Mickey’s words, and he pressed his own in the nape of his neck, hands softly reaching in between Mickey’s cheeks. 

“I told you to shut-up,” he murmured into his jaw, and stepped closer Mickey’s back was pressed against his chest. 

His dick presses against him. 

“Shouldn’t you be a little nicer to your boyfriend?”

Gabe wraps his arms against the other man’s waist, biting at his neck as he slowly eases in. 

“Aren’t there better things your mouth could be doing?” 

Mickey moaned and turned towards him, hand reaching back to grab at his hair while the other held his hip. They kissed slowly, lips still sore from making out in the locker rooms for so long. 

Gabe never considered himself a lucky man, until he met Mickey. 

* 

This was hell. A real shit storm, shit fest, whatever you want to call it. 

Because imagine you and your boyfriend from some time ago break up in the shittiest way imaginable. Imagine some irrational force of God ripped you away from the only man you’ve ever loved, the boy who kissed you and loved you and held you for so long, with you as the villain, with you cruel and mean, you holding that dull knife and trying to hack away at something you don’t think will ever break. 

And now think of this boy, who you thought you’d almost cleaned from your heart, who you thought was almost free of you, at the one place you thought you were safe. Imagine this boy at the gym, in all of the gyms in all of Manhattan, that you work at. This boy in tight red shorts, arms still bulky and shaped, lips still plump and soft. This boy with eyes so blue, dark hair now longer than before, some softly hanging over his face.

Ian Gallagher never was graced by any sort of good luck. He had dealt with enough shit to fill a bad Lifetime movie, and had hoped, naively perhaps, of things calming down once he got to New York. Once he got his meds stabilized, once he felt that blur that seemed to swallow him whole was safely locked in that part of his mind he never entered. 

Nothing could have prepared him for having Mickey Milkovich as a co-worker. Not when he pranced around half fucking naked, when his boyfriend was the gorgeous college student who sometimes worked at the smoothie bar. Not when he walked into the showers to find Mickey pressed into the wall, said college student draped across his back as he fucked him, their moans reverberating through white tiles. 

Little did Ian know, things would get a whole lot shittier. And perhaps also better. Who knows? I am just the omniscient narrator. lol lol mickey’s going to be taken care of tho.

**Author's Note:**

> ok idk if i want to make this an ian x mickey endgame or a mickey x gabe end game?? i really am not sure how im going to end this. 
> 
> sorry for how bitter i sound, i tried to take away the bitter parts. like i took out the whole paragraph of ian finding them and like looking at the sky and screaming "fu sheila callaghan i hope your bangs get too long"


End file.
